"It's like we've wandered our way into an apocalypse," Beth commented as she clicked through the news channels on the TV. "Look at this: robbery, robbery, fire, suicide, fire, suicide by fire—"

"Stop that," her father snapped, snatching the remote out of her hand and changing the channel to something more wholesome. Or well less local, real-life—she didn't think CSI was "wholesome."

"Maybe this time, when someone tried to open a Hellmouth, they actually succeeded," she offered, much to the distaste of her father.

"I know Hellmouth activity an' this isn't it," he assured.

"Bethie's got a point though," Willow told him, walking in from the dining room, book in hand. "I'm just waiting for the four horsemen to come in. Look at these—Seattle area police records. Even they can already tell crime is way up. And the amount of small natural disasters? Just last week someone's entire roof caved in—for no reason."

"It's undeniable that we're located in a hotspot," Esme agreed. She and Willow had been spending the last several hours trying to mastermind a way up to detect this little chaos-causing nut that was currently making it like Revelations out there. If blood started raining from the sky, that was it; Beth would move back to Scotland without making a fuss. Hell, she'd buy the plane tickets.

"The only problem is we can't find the epicenter," Willow admitted. "But we're working on it! Esme and I think the problem is that we've been trying to do both the when and where of the next surge."

"Isn't that what we need to know?" Spike asked irritably.

"No—that's the problem. It's like Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle: you can either be certain of an atom's location or its speed, but not both."

"Can I suggest the 'where' then?" Beth asked lazily from the couch. "That way, you just go there and wait? And then it'll have to come around eventually."

"So what we did was isolate just the occurrences of the surges—our speed—and found a pattern! We know when the next one is going to occur."

"When?" Spike questioned.

"Judging by our calculations, next Thursday," Esme answered. "Towards the evening, sometime between eight and ten. We were only able to narrow it down to two-hour intervals."

"Okay, but now that we know when, how are we going to find it? What's the point of knowing when if we don't know where to go?"

"We're working on that," Willow promised. "We think the center of these surges have been occurring at dimensionally weak spots in Bellevu and the surrounding areas. We've located a total of six—"

"Six?" he repeated.

"Yes, six—not counting the ones it's already been at. We've located six weak spots in and around Bellevue. It's likely the next surge will happen at one of those," Willow finished.

"We can't tell you what to expect though," Esme added. "Nothing in the books even suggests to us what this could be. As Beth's friend Maea suggested, the most likely cause is someone trying to rip their way into our dimension without the right power source. Whether it's dangerous or not is still unknown."

"It's been unsuccessful though," Willow reminded them, "so Thursday's most likely going to be recon. No one should try and fight it, just see what it is."

"So you suggest we split up an' cover the six areas?" Spike reiterated and Willow nodded. "I hate that plan."

"You got a better one?" Beth asked, earning herself a glare from him. "I could cover my own. You said it's not a fight so it's not like I'll need back-up."

"And I figured, Spike, you too could cover your own, along with Maea and Buffy," Willow said. "Esme and I could take another and then have Nadja and Daniel watch the last one? Everyone will go in with weapons."

"You want to send it two kids?" Spike asked.

Willow shrugged. "Hey, Xander and I did it. And they'd do it without us if we didn't ask. They'd join up with Beth and you know how much of a trouble magnet she's been in the last few years."

"Hey!" Beth exclaimed, offended. "I resent that! S'not like I asked for any of that to happen to me!"

"So, Spike, what do you say?" Willow asked, ignoring Beth's fuming look.

He sighed. "Not much, I s'pose. S'not like we've got options. Easy to tell this thing'll take us out before we take it out if we try goin' at in another way. I'll talk to Buffy, see what she says."

"I can already tell you she'll agree," Willow said with a smile. "I'm the plan-girl, remember?"

He snorted. "Like you lot ever had a plan."

"Of course we did," she said, ignoring his snide tone.

"Just remember: we're only planning to see what actually occurs," Esme reminded them sternly, giving special attention to both Spike and Beth, who gave her "who, me? Nah" looks. "We cannot assess the danger of whatever this is from this prediction alone and we don't need you doing anything stupid."

Beth snorted. "Like I'd do anything stupid," she claimed. "I'm just glad I've now got plans for Thursday. Thought I was going to have to do something terrible like homework."

-.-

It was quite a terrible bore waiting around for something to happen—a something which had no guarantee of even occurring. Beth'd gotten the more idyllic dimensional weak spot, a cozy little secluded rocky area near lake Sammamish. It'd be a nice place for a picnic.

Letting out a great big sigh, she laid against the hood of her car and stared up at the stars. Or, she would have, could she actually see the stars through the suburban night lighting. She thought that one to her left might have been a star, but then it moved so it wasn't.

All the six places had been pretty recluse, at least some way off from busy roads and lit streets. That was quite a coincidence, though Esme had suggested that these weak spots gave off a creepy vibe that many people opted away from, therefore build away from (Beth thought it felt kind of calm here, but she figured that said more about her than the place). When her mother had been assigning spots, Beth'd ended up with this place. At first she'd been pretty excited, pumped to finally be doing something about this, but after half an hour, she started to get kind of bored. She still had about an hour and a half before nothing was guaranteed to happen and she hadn't even thought to bring a book. And because the weak spot wasn't condensed to some five-by-five-foot square, but the entire rock outcropping and shoreline, she had to keep her eyes wide on a large area. Also about twenty feet into the water, but her aunt Willow assured her the likelihood of the rip happening in the water was unlikely. Beth refrained from pointing out that the being behind the surge probably didn't know where the water was to begin with.

She thought about calling someone, maybe Zack, to help pass the time, but she'd been told to keep the phone lines open in case something happened to someone. She couldn't even call Nadja, who was doing the same thing she was somewhere else, because Nadja "took her job seriously" (unlike Beth, apparently). But it was so boring just waiting around hoping something would happen. It wasn't fun to play I Spy with the local squirrel.

Tapping her boot against the car's fender, she pulled out her phone again, lighting up the screen to see—yet again—no messages. She knew of a phrase that said "a watched pot never boils" and she wondered if that could also be applied to a cellular device as well. Sighing, she dropped the phone beside her head on the hood of the car, making a satisfying clanking sound of metal against plastic.

No sooner had she done that then the phone began to buzz, making the whole hood vibrate. "Oh shit!" she hissed, jumping up and accidentally knocking her phone across the hood and to the ground. It landed softly in the grass beside the front tire and she scrambled across the hood to reach it. It had landed face down in order to continue the suspense.

Despite her wicked fast reflexes, she nearly dropped the phone when she got ahold of it, as she was jittery with excitement. It was all for naught though, as when she turned over the phone, it showed her that Zack was calling. He was in Boston, nowhere near the current situation. So how dare he?

Grumbling, she answered the phone, warning, "You better be dying."

"Nice to hear from you too," he greeted warmly. "I thought I'd call, seeing as we haven't talked in a while."

"So you choose tonight of all nights?" she asked, teeth clenched. "I am on duty. Hell, I am on edge."

"You're currently standing out—probably in the middle of a field—waiting for something that has 1/6th a chance of happening to you. I'm not a betting man, but I was willing to take a chance," he told her.

"I'm not standing in a field," she retorted. "I'm near a lake. Lake Sammamish, to be exact."

"Oh cool, can you see my granddad's house?"

"Zack, that's not the point of this," she reminded him. "Did or did not Nadja give you the low down?"

"The low down? Who says that anymore? And she did, yes. She's been keeping me informed, unlike you," he said.

"I'm well—I'm busy," she defended, feeling guilty. "And I do tell you things. Sometimes."

"Is there another possibly homicidal boyfriend in the picture?" he asked, mostly joking, but also probably because he thought she was prone. It had actually happened once.

"No," she drew out. "I'm not stupid. What's that saying 'fool me once and make an ass out of you a me?'"

"You're mixing your metaphors, but sure," he replied. "And I thought I'd just check. Why're you so upset I called though? Normally you're happy to hear from me."

"Because something might happen and I need to have the line free in case something happens," she explained, completely ignoring the joyful little voice in the back of her head that reminded her that she had been considering calling him only moments before (OMG he called ME—shut up little voice!). But hey, he didn't need to know that.

"Ah," he said knowingly. "You're hoping to get there in time to see what's happening. You know, they're probably going to call after it happens, you know, once it's over."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No, I'm pointing out the obvious pitfalls in your plan," he corrected. "Though I might have said it in a mocking tone."

"Well, I don't think I like your tone," she replied haughtily. "And I have things to do. So bye."

He let out a bark of laughter. "What? Stare at a line of trees?"

"Stare at a line of rocks, thank you," she informed him. "It's a job I take very seriously. I take all my slayer duties very seriously."

"Especially the bookwork," he agreed sagely.

"You're mocking me again."

"You're an easy target, what can I say?"

"Maybe if you were a lot nicer, you'd actually get invited to these things, rather than sitting in a library, studying to the point of boredom that the only relief you can find is by calling me."

"Whoa, ouch, and did you just put yourself down?" he asked. "Besides, I couldn't go. I live in Boston now. Massachusetts. Oher side of the country? East Coast? This ringing any bells for you?"

"When you act like this, it makes me miss you less," she told him, fighting to keep her expression stern. If she smiled, he'd hear it. She knew it.

"It's the only thing I can do to make you miss me less these next few weeks," he told her sweetly. "It's what makes me such a good friend."

She snorted, sitting up on her car. "Sure, and pigs fly."

"If I put one on a plane, it would."

She laughed. "That doesn't even make any sense," she began to say, only to be cut off by a large cracking sound. Considering her current environment, it sounded like rocks splitting. But that would be weird. Right?

"Beth?"

"Hold on," she replied, taking a good, long moment to peruse the rocky overhang. She didn't see anything moving, but she didn't just imagine the sound. Well, at least she didn't think so. "Did you hear that?" she asked him.

"I can hear the kid two tables down from me typing on his laptop," he replied. "That what you mean?"

"No, I mean on my side," she said, slowly sliding off her car. "I thought I heard something…strange."

"Well I didn't hear anything," he said. "Are you sure you're not ju—"

"Right there!" she screeched, as a white, thin line began to stretch across the rocky overhang. An actual rip in the dimension. "Zack, I have to go! Bye!" She tossed her phone through the window of her car, racing over to the bushes to get a better look. She wasn't supposed to fight it, but no one said anything about getting closer.

The line—a crack made through space, time, dimensions, or all of the above—grew until it was about seven feet across, though it didn't open any wider. It didn't seem to do much, though she felt a weird, pulsing vibe coming off from it and it was at that moment she wondered if she should be concerned about possible contamination. Maybe radiation? Did deep, unknown parts of space have diseases? She had a feeling she would find out.

And just when she thought this was all it was going to do, a loud, piercing yell deafened the area, doing Beth and her super-sensitive vampire ears no favors. It sounded like someone in pain though, like Maea had said.

"Bloody fucking hell," she hissed once it stopped, her ears ringing.

"Help me!" came the loud, moaning reply, and she froze. Technically, that was an accident; she had not meant to engage it. But she was also sure her mother would not see it that way.

"Help me!" it shrieked louder before letting out another pained scream. This one wasn't as loud, probably since the being now knew it didn't have to catch anyone's attention.

"Who are you?" she asked loudly, figuring if she was already in, she might as well get something out of it. "Where are you?"

"Help me, please! I'm begging you!" She couldn't tell if the voice was male or female, which was odd, though maybe it wasn't fair to assume other beings had those two genders. But then again, it really did sound like a genderless void of a voice—almost like a voice in her head. She paused. Was it talking in her head?

"I can't help you if you don't tell me anything," she informed it.

"I'm trapped," it told her, "between dimensional folds! I was only trying to get home before I got stuck! I keep trying—"

"But all it does it let out a surge of power," she finished, the pieces all finally falling into place. "You can't open the gap and so the power surges just rippled through space until they came here."

"Yes, please, you must help me!"

"I—" she started, then stopped, when she realized she didn't know what to tell it. She didn't know anything about dimensional rifts and folds and the problems associated with them. What was she supposed to say? "I have these friends—they can help you. I'll get them to get you out, I promise. Not right now though, because they're not here, but—"

"Please, hurry!" it yelled, before letting out another long scream before the tear glowed bright, forcing her to cover her eyes, before sealing up completely, leaving the field exactly as she had found it.

Taking a moment, and letting her eyes adjust, she stood in the clearing still looking at where the tear had been. Boy, did she have some news to share. Darting across the grass, she reached in her car and grabbed her phone, dialing.

"Mum, you are not going to believe what happened."

-.-

"So he said he's stuck?" Nadja asked that night, after they had regrouped. Willow had seemed upset that she hadn't been the one to experience it, though Beth wasn't going to let that sad puppy make her feel bad. Mostly because she'd gotten hell for talking to it from her mother.

"You're weren't supposed to talk to him at all!" her mother reiterated, likely for the eleventh time. Even Spike had given up on his tirade (he'd likely remembered how hardheaded his daughter could get and how ineffective yelling really could be).

"But I did and he said he was trapped," Beth said.

"Did he explain how he became stuck?" Esme asked.

She shrugged. "He mostly said he had been trying to get home. I didn't really ask for his life story."

"Should we believe him?" Nadja inquired. "Did you even see him?"

"No, I didn't, it was just a rip. Big, bright, and white."

"Can we?" Nadja asked, turning to her aunt and Beth's.

Willow and Esme exchanged uneasy looks. "It's hard to tell, but we can't leave him—or it—there," Willow explained. "It'd tear apart the town."

"She's right," Esme agreed. "Whether or not it's telling the truth is irrelevant; as long as we leave it there, the surges are only going to get worse. How long before an earthquake swallows the town?"

"An' I'm not doin' that again," Spike cut in fiercely. "Once was enough."

"No one wants to do it again," Buffy reminded him. "Okay, so how do we get Mr. Time Rip home?"

"Um, it won't be easy," Willow started.

"Willow," Esme warned and Willow gave her a sheepish look.

"What?" Buffy asked, looking between the two women.

"Anything this powerful enough to create these sort of effects trying to travel through dimensions is going to be hard to move," Esme informed them. "It will require power—a lot of it."

"Wills is powerful," Buffy stated.

"Didn't she try and end the world once when she got too powerful?" Beth reminded her mother.

"Wait, we can't end the world to keep something else from ending the world," Nadja cried. "That'd be pointless!"

"I agree," Daniel said. "I do not think it would be safe for one person to handle all of this. And there must be a better way to communicate with this entity in order for us to get the full story. If he is a powerful as he appears to be, I believe he may be of some help."

"But can we trust him?" Beth asked. "That's the question."

"We have to get rid of him regardless of that!" Willow grumped, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Maybe our family can do something," Nadja offered, looking over at her aunt. "They're all up with the magic too. We could use their help."

"This does affect them," Esme murmured. "They're likely just as hurried to have this solved as we are. They're aware of the circumstances, so it's possible they could provide some insight into contacting this thing."

"Now that we know it's stuck, won't it be easier to find it?" Beth asked. "I mean, we know what's causing this now. Maea was right."

"I normally am," she piped up.

"And does she also know how to fix this?" Buffy asked patronizingly.

"I never got stuck between dimensions," she stated. "I was smarter than that. I assume when the attempt was made, he did it so improperly and without prior experience. Due to the lack on his part, he was unable to complete it. I also believe that seeing as how he was able to get himself into this situation, he likely could get himself out if he knew the proper way."

"So, we just need to find a way to get him out and then find a way to tell him?" Beth restated and Maea nodded.

"I believe that will be easier said than done," Daniel mentioned.

Spike snorted.

"We'll figure it out," Willow decided. "All we need to do is find a way to communicate with him."

Nadja sighed, looking skyward. "Why do I feel like we all just drank the Kool-Aid?"